Chapter 218 – Year-End Dinner
Alexander Smith had once been a fan of the Harry Potter novels before he ever crossed into this world.
Beyond the novels themselves, he had even explored J.K. Rowling's notes and drafts.
For example, in her early plans, Dean Thomas was given a wizard father with a rich backstory. But so as not to overshadow Neville Longbottom's importance, Rowling had cut it from the final version.
Alexander had always been fascinated by this detail.
In his daily life—between managing the family business, studying magic, spending time with Penelope and Kate, and teasing Hermione when the chance arose—he had also dug into hidden corners of characters' stories. Dean's father was one of them.
As it turned out, Dedalus Diggle, an old friend of Dean's father, was just as lively as in the original timeline: a warm-hearted adventurer, always busy, always on the move.
In the canon history Alexander remembered, Diggle had been one of Harry's protectors. During Harry's fifth year, when dementors attacked, Diggle had joined Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, and others in escorting Harry to 12 Grimmauld Place. Later, in Harry's seventh year, Diggle and other wizards were tasked with protecting the Dursleys as they went into hiding.
He was a loyal member of the Order of the Phoenix, though not an official Ministry employee. Instead, he lived as a wanderer—taking commissions that caught his fancy, whiling away hours at the Leaky Cauldron when not on a mission.
This time, however, Alexander himself had arranged things behind the scenes. He sent his people to commission Diggle with "researching the aquatic magical creatures of Plymouth Harbor." The old newspaper that revealed Hadwin Jones's hidden Muggle family? Alexander had made sure Diggle stumbled across it.
That way, Dean's father would be remembered not as someone who abandoned his family, but as a hero who had hidden the truth in order to protect them.
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Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw dormitory, Sirius, thrilled after finally receiving Dumbledore's permission, had swept Harry into a hug and spun him around.
"What?!" Ron groaned from his bed. "I was going to invite you to the Burrow this summer!"
"I want to," Harry admitted, still dizzy from Sirius's embrace, "but Sirius thought he might get to live with me. He was so disappointed before… I can't say no now."
Neville and the others leaned in, curious. Ron lowered his voice, itching to share the secret that had weighed on him all year.
"Do you know where Professor Quirrell went?" Ron whispered conspiratorially.
Harry, lying on the next bed, thought about stopping him—but Dumbledore hadn't actually forbidden them from talking. In a castle full of portraits and gossip, no secret stayed hidden for long.
"St. Mungo's?" Anthony guessed. "It must be the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Every professor meets some bizarre fate. Most end up there."
"Or dead," Neville muttered. "We all know Harry stopped You-Know-Who from stealing the Stone. Quirrell must have met him."
Even Terry and Michael, usually glued to Anthony's side, nodded at Neville's logic.
Ron sighed dramatically. "Fine, you're right. But it wasn't just any magic stone—it was the Philosopher's Stone. You've heard of Nicolas Flamel, right? He's on the Chocolate Frog cards!"
Faces around him went wide-eyed.
Ron puffed up with pride. "Over six hundred years old. Voldemort—" he paused, then smirked at their flinches, "—yes, Voldemort, was living on the back of Quirrell's head. If it weren't for Harry's… well, his special power against You-Know-Who, Quirrell would've crushed us. He even killed a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. In the end, Harry got the Stone and defeated him."
Terry quickly passed Ron a glass of water, well-used to his friend's dramatic storytelling.
Anthony frowned. "So that's why you can say the name so easily, Ron?"
Michael raised his eyebrows. "What were you doing during all that, then? Just playing chess?"
"If it were you," Terry said bluntly, "You'd have been knocked out cold like Ron was, and Voldemort would've taken the Stone."
Ron grinned and patted Terry's shoulder, utterly unbothered.
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The next evening was the year-end feast.
The Great Hall shone with Ravenclaw's blue and bronze banners, celebrating the end of Slytherin's six-year reign over the House Cup. A massive eagle standard hung proudly behind the staff table. Students from every House—save Slytherin—cheered as though their own House had won.
Even the ghosts joined the celebration. The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw, usually solemn, smiled faintly, her beauty startling the nearby students. The Bloody Baron's glare quickly chased her composure back into place, but instead of fleeing, she floated to join her House's table.
Nearly Headless Nick chuckled with Dean and Seamus, loudly proclaiming Slytherin's defeat.
Finally, Dumbledore rose, his presence silencing the Hall.
"Another year has passed!" he said warmly. After a few pleasantries, he moved on. "And now, the House Cup. The final scores: Hufflepuff, 352 points; Gryffindor, 412; Slytherin, 452; and in first place—Ravenclaw, with 476 points!"
The Hall erupted into thunderous cheers as Ravenclaw claimed the Cup.
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(End of Chapter 218)
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